The Greatest Treasure of All
by Margolo Blu
Summary: In a last ditch effort to destroy the Golden General's troops, a group of draconians attempt to deliver a magical gemstone. Violence and fluff


_I don't often do graphic battle scenes, so this is the first time for me. I like some parts of this story, others fell short. Give me your opinion, and point out any mistakes I made. Enjoy. _

_I do not own the idea of draconians, or the War of the Lance, or anything DragonLance related. This story is the result of a midnight inspiration, a random writing experiment, and my love for those scaly dracos! I tried to make this as realistic as possible to the draconians of the War of Lance. There will be an explanation for this story at the end. _

**The Greatest Treasure of All**

"How's the stew going, Sorik?" Strife asked the Sivak lounging by the cooking pit. The was a silver shimmer in the morning darkness as Sorik slid from his warm nest of pine needles and worn furs; a warm nest indeed but not as warm as Strife's own nest, made completely of furs, stolen from the packs of slaughtered Solamnic Knights, there was even a few cushy, silken pillows of elven make tossed in, a bed fit for an exhausted Bozak commander.

The Sivak stiffly approached the pit and removed the lid from a kettle pot, also swiped from slain knights. With a long talon the color of quicksilver, Sorik poked his finger into the pot, into one of the thicker ingredients. He did not mind the heat; whether it was because of his resistance to pain or the fact it was midwinter and freezing and he was just removed from his warm nest. He pulled his talon from the pot and sucked on it for a moment.

"I think, dunno though, Commander. How long do you cook baby coon anyway?" he said.

"Is it hot?" Strife asked, sitting up angrily.

"Yes," the Sivak answered.

"Then bring the damn thing over here!" Strife exclaimed.

Sorik struggled with the huge pot and brought it over to the commander. Strife immediately reached into the pot and plucked out the cooked, skinned body of the raccoon and ravenously tore into it. He left the meaty broth with a few slices of turnips and onions for his sub-commander. Sorik drank the broth without complaint and without second thought.

"Do you think we should have given some to the Eggheads?" Sorik asked with a belch. He sat down on the frozen ground, a comfortable distance from the massive fire. He indicated another group of draconians, eight in number, sitting in a huddled bunch like eggs in a basket around a small breakfast fire.

"Ah, screw 'em. They're still full from three days ago," he grumbled, putting his clawed hands across. "And I don't think they'll like a stew made from their pet."

Both the Sivak and Bozak laughed. The roaring laughter echoed into the night, drowning out the calls of the wolves and winter birds that haunted the very forest.

One of the Eggheads, the only other Bozak in the group, raised his head and looked back at his commanders. Immediately he ducked back down in the huddle, hiding his head, one ram horn (much smaller than his commander's own ram horns) broken off from previous skirmishes, between his shoulders.

The justly named Eggheads were Strife's new army, an exceptionally small army compared to the troops he once led almost two years ago. His former troops were long gone, slain in epic battles. The battles now were nothing more than guerilla attacks, if the dark armies ever went of the offensive. Lately, it was Solamnic knights going on the offensive; they would valiantly swoop down from the top of the valley on their steeds and pick off the draconians on the run. And his troop now was slowly dwindling off as they raced, laden with a last ditch effort to destroy the Golden General, through the thick woods. The Solamnic Knights had been mercilessly pursuing them and picking them off one by one. The troop was originally thirty in count, but now dwindled down to ten in number.

After the last of his of his troops died out in a one sided battle with elven archers (Strife barely survived, but his wings were shredded due the arrows which left him unable to glide, which was better than Sorik fared, he was left blind in one eye, and the young Bozak lost his right horn, leaving him to walk with a very noticeable tilt), the Dark Queen's wizards sent the last of the draconian brood in a last ditch effort to switch the tide of battle. Unfortunately, in their haste to send out more warriors, the black robes had given the last draconians proper training; in fact, they barely gave the draconians enough time to mature. The newest additions to Strife's dwindling troop were naïve to being almost innocent in nature (a draconian, innocent?), had mediocre knowledge in sword use and weaponry, did not even know what powers came with each distinct race of draconian (the young bozak did not know how to use magic, and was often left in childish awe when he saw it in use) or who was who in the troop (they had positively no clue who the general was and what he did when they first joined the troop), and did not even know the history of the war or why they were fighting. Some may call the newest troopers a little green around the scales; which was what new draconian soldiers were normally called. Strife came up with a better term for the group; The Eggheads, named so because they were so immature and so fresh from the eggs; that their heads were almost smooth which the exception of pathetic, knobby excuses for horns and ridges.

Fortunately, despite the incompetent troops he was sent, Strife was given something of greater importance, something that could put the end of the war in the favor of the Dark Queen. A magic gemstone of unbelievable power was put in his hands, and he, Strife had to deliver it to the remaining shreds of the Takhisis's army. With the gemstone in the hands of the dark wizards, Paladine's troops would cower before the five heads of Takhisis. Strife licked his narrow lips in anticipation.

The lick brought up not only the taste of delight, but the taste of the baby raccoon. Scruffy, that's what the little thing's name was. Earlier that morning, Strife discovered the Eggheads were harboring the raccoon in the makeshift sled made from the large shields of Solamnic footmen. It wasn't the fact the Eggheads were hiding possible food from Strife and giving the little cub what food remained that angered their commander, but the fact, the Eggheads were putting more effort in the raccoon than they were into their duty. They were still soft from the egg. At the end of this campaign, Strife hoped the Eggheads would harden up.

Strife sucked the shreds of meat from between his teeth. From the pouch hanging from his belt, he pulled out the gemstone. It was the size of a human's fist, and cut in the style a diamond is cut for a ring. The outside was black, black like oil, black like oil slicked over the scales of a black dragon and just as sharp looking as the scales of a black dragon. Unlike a typical gemstone, it did not shine or glimmer when held up to the light, but the inside burned red, red like blood sliced through with crimson lightning. The inside swirled as if the Maelstrom itself was caught inside the gem's multifaceted surface.

_The greatest treasure of all…_

And Strife was sent to deliver it. He felt himself drool in expectation; from the Golden General forces crumbling and the honor he would receive for making the delivery.

He shoved the gemstone back into the pouch at his side. An Egghead Baaz was watching him with curiosity. Strife snarled at him. The Egghead, whether terrified or embarrassed, ducked down again and shrunk even lower than his brethren.

Strife hissed, blowing out a chunk of meat from between his front fangs. His tolerance for the Eggheads was always low, and currently, it was at its lowest. The raccoon was just at the tip of a very large, very cold iceberg.

A few days earlier, a surprise ambush a ragtag army of farmers, the odd dwarf, and no surprise, kender, sent the Eggheads scattering. Strife and Sorik were left to face the desperate troop by themselves. The Eggheads had confused the hastily and poorly formed army for an attack by Solamnic knights. Any solider with any common sense knows that Solamnic knights do not ambush; they will always fight their enemies face to face. The attack happened from behind (a position never taken by the blasted knights). The sound of the "army" moving through the frozen brush was loud, but misgiving. The Eggheads immediately presumed that there was a large force of horsemen approaching. At the most, the Eggheads had been confronted by eight horsemen, with painful results. They were more than weary and immediately scattered, knowing they did not have a chance against an army of horsemen with pikes, lances, and swords. Over the screaming humans, kender, and dwarves, the Bozak and the Sivak did not even hear the Eggheads make a mad dash through thesnow covered pine until Strife leaned back to order the Eggheads to attack.

Against knights, a crippled Bozak and a half-blind Sivak do not stand much of a chance unless a "caring" red dragon happened to be passing overhead and decided to swoop down on the knights. This army was nothing more than a few farmers—some women too!—armed with pitchforks, shovels, and hoes, two old dwarves, and about three kender with extremely annoying grins. Just spreading out their wings and roaring, sent several men running. A few plucky men and the dwarves attacked them. Swords were not needed. A few swipes of clawed hands worked quite well. The spraying blood sent the rest flying. They threw down their gardening tools and took off as if demonspawn were on their heels. Even the kender ran, but their mouths were open in delight and laughter, not in fear and panting.

Strife overhead a kender shout. "This is one fun game of chicken! Can we run back and do this again?"

A farmer shouted back. "You're welcomed to! But we're not playing with you! Or burying you!"

The "battle" left the two dwarves and three farmers dead. Dwarf meat was notoriously tough, and Strife ignored the dwarves' corpses, but he found a few bottles of spirits on them. The humans smelt as if they hadn't bathed in months and one peed his pants before the strike that ended his life came down on him. The draconians, though they had eaten dwarf and human flesh, turned their noses up at the available meat. It would take too much time to prepare the meat, and Strife doubted the meat was palatable, even for a gullet as indiscernible as a draconian's.

On the bodies, the draconians found rations, booze, and winter vegetables. But the best surprise of all had to be one of the farmers that the draconians thought was dead, was in fact alive. A woman, a young one, was alive and kicking. There was a slash from Sorik's claw across her arm, starting at her wrist and running up her arm. She was weak from blood loss and fear. Strife decided to keep the woman alive for the moment. They could always use her as leverage with those twice-damned knights. They wouldn't attack if a maiden was in danger. As well, if the draconians got hungry in the future, they would have fresh and very palatable meat at hand.

Strife also had other plans for the young woman. He was not one for human women, but he was very partial to red heads, and this woman had locks the color of dried blood; Strife's favorite color. As well, her eyes burned green with the color of dragon scales; Strife's second favorite color. Like the baby coon, the woman's fate was sealed.

Dragging a gagged, kicking, woman through snow covered woods searching for eight missing Eggheads took all day. They found one, Ish, about twenty yards away. In his mad dash, he ran into a tree and knocked himself out. Another two, Ahk and Mahk, they were as close to twins as draconians could possibly get, were found up in a massive, bare oak. Another, Checkt, dove into a snow drift. The tip of his tail stuck out, giving away his position. Van was found at the bottom of a ravine. He slipped and fell and slid down the ravine, scratching up his whole entire brass rear end on the ice. Vlok was hid in the bottom branches of a pine tree, perfectly camouflaged in its dark green needles. The branch broke with a thunderous crack, and that's how Strife found him. Aun was chased down by one of the kender who flung an arsenal of snowballs at him. Hehid in a caveand that's where they found him cowering. Baz, the half-horned Bozak, became utterly lost and he didn't find them until they were settled down into camp for the night.

Strife was more than a little angry and exhausted, from the battle and chewing out his troops. He left the woman in the care of the Eggheads and immediately went to sleep. The next morning, he found out the Eggheads had killed and eaten the woman. He woke up to find the Eggheads sitting around in their typical circle pattern. With red eyes they looked up at him innocently and nervously. The woman was nowhere to be seen. He found the blanket she was laying on, still dripping with blood and hidden in the snow. The Eggheads devoured her, leaving only blood soaked sheets and her shredded clothing.

Strife wasn't thrilled. He had plans for that woman. But he shook it off. Finally, the Eggheads had their first taste of blood. Things should be easier from now on. Then there was that raccoon incident. And Strife wasn't amused. They killed and eaten a human female then tried to raise a raccoon. It made Strife's bile rise.

The sun rose in the sky, spilling across the clouds like clotted blood. Strife grumbled. Time to move.

Draconians were hot blooded like their dragon parentage, but unfortunately, they did not move so well in the cold. They could stand the cold even better than humans or those pansy elves, but it thickened their blood, so they were left to travel during the day so that the sunlight would heat and thin their blood. The sun as well supplied them with a small amount of energy.

"Get yer scaly asses up! Move it!" Strife snarled, gathering up his nesting. "This treasure isn't gonna deliver itself! Off yer asses! The war will be long over before you pathetic piles of scale and wasted magic get ready!"

The Eggheads glared angrily and sorrowfully at him. Grumbling, they raised their bodies from the logs. Ahk and Mahk grabbed hold of the ropes tied to the shield sled. Strife and Sorik threw their bedding on the sled. It slumped down considerably. The two twin packhorse draconians throatily growled and winced.

Strife took the lead of the group. By instinct he knew where they were heading, to the north, to the mountains to a castle that housed a powerful wizardress. And that powerful wizardress could release the power with in this stone, and then boom—no armies of Paladine, no Golden General, no pansy elves, and no twice-damned Solamnic knights.

Right behind Strife, Sorik walked and about ten feet behind him were the twin draconians, Ahk and Mahk, and just ten feet behind them were the other six draconians.

The Eggheads were quiet on an even more subdued scale than usual. They only addressed Strife when assessing equipment, asking questions or answering questions, or when he addressed them. Mostly, they talked among themselves, and only during breaks or the campfire. During their march, there was occasional muffled talking, but today, there was none, not even a grumble. They had been quiet this morning, mostly likely in mourning of Scruffy.

Scruffy—of all things!

They don't even know who Paladine or Mishakal was, but they can come up with a damn name for a raccoon!

As they marched in silence, Strife pulled the gem from his belt. He ran his clawed finger once again over its faceted surface. Ah, beautiful, the greatest treasure of all. He licked the stone with a long forked tongue. Sweet. He could taste the power within the stone.

He returned the stone back to its pouch and patted it down.

For over three hours they marched. The only sound was the crunching of snow under clawed feet and the sound of the sled scraping against the icy ground and occasional root. A few of the Eggheads huffed in exhaustion as the day wore on.

They were only a few days shy of their objective. They would have been there sooner if not for the Eggheads and the Solamnic attacks. Strife snarled, saliva flecking out of his mouth. The tides could have already turned in disfavor for all he knew.

Strife cleared his mind. In two days, three at the most, he would have the gemstone delivered. In two days, the war could be over, and the Dark Queen would rise up in glory over Krynn. Strife would gain honor and power and prestige from his queen, became a lord maybe in the new Krynn—his Krynn. Then he would be free of these fools. Finally, he would get to pick who works with him and for him. He would be off to the side calling the shots and commanding great armies. In just two days…

Then an arrow whizzed past Strife's face, slicing open the thin scales of his cheek. He leapt just as Sorik screamed in pain. The Sivak reared up, the arrow projecting out of his good, remaining eye. In pain he thrashed, claws scratching up at the sky before collapsing into a writhing pile. The Sivak's bulging eyes narrowed, transforming into human eyes. His massive, scaly silver body shrunk and softened, turning into a human male, a knight, wearing the same pained expression Sorik wore before he died.

From his position on the ground, greenish-red blood pouring from his cheek, Strife glared up at the crest of a hill. Four Solamnic horsemen, one an archer with an arrow notched and ready, returned the glare through eyes the colors of emeralds, umber, sapphire, and onyx, stones of a natural beauty and softness. They were so close, Strife could feel their hate.

There were only four of them, and nine draconians. It was going to be one helluva battle, but they were so close, Strife could taste it on the tip of his tongue, he could taste it in the air. But he could also taste blood, but it was a small price to pay.

"BASTARDS!" Strife roared. "COME AND FACE ME YOU COWARDS!"

The Eggheads were all crowded around the sled, about twenty-five feet away from the human body of Sorik and their angered commander. Baz the young Bozak, stood ahead of the Eggheads, and was almost pushing them back.

Ahk and Mahk suddenly turned, dragging the sled behind them. The sled twisted and turned. The archer let an arrow fly, nailing Ahk in the hindquarters, near the base of the tail. He let loose a startled, pained scream and the sled toppled. Both Ahk, despite his wound, and Mahk flipped to face the spilled contents of the sled or the knights. All the Eggheads looked terrified.

FOOLS, Strife thought. Stupid damned fools. Dammit, now the knights knew that almost all the warriors were green and unskilled. There would be a slaughter.

Strife pulled a small curving dagger from his side. A well formed flick of the arm sent the blade flying through cold, biting wind. The archer screamed as the blade buried itself in his throat.

"BASTARD!" Strife screamed.

He pulled the curved sword from his side as the remaining three knights charged down the hillside. All the Eggheads had their swords readied as well.

One knight flew past Strife; his charge was aimed for the Eggheads all crowded in one spot. Strife slashed out with his sword, catching the man on the thigh. The blade ran through leather, cloth, and a thin layer of chain mail. It rendered flesh, slicing open the artery in the thigh. It wasn't the way Strife preferred to kill a man, he preferred a more graphic way, but the blood loss would kill the man, quick, but not fast enough. Solamnics were damn hard to kill. They were so stubborn that Morgion would have a helluva time dragging them into the underworld. Cutting them in half or decapitating them was the only guaranteed way that they weren't going to fight to the death.

The man whose leg Strife sliced open fell from his horse. The horse, just as stubborn as the knighthood that raised it, stood bravely by its fallen owner. And it would remain there even after the battle is long over.

The next knight was not as easily killed. Instead of racing to painfully obviously unskilled Eggheads, he faced Strifehead on. Swords crashed. Strife tried to spit in the man's face, but he was rewarded with a straight kick to the snout, the most delicate part of a draconian with a metal tipped boot. Strife's nose cracked. Dammit!

With a gush of blood, Strife fell backwards into the snow. The knight jumped down from his horse. It was doubtful he would let Strife live. The war was far too gone for the draconian to provide anything of interest, so there was no chance of Strife becoming a hostage.

"Bloody creature of the abyss! Die!" the knight exclaimed, raising his sword.

"Another day you damned knight!" Strife exclaimed jabbing forward, hitting the knight in the midsection. The knight fell forward onto the sword. He coughed blood into Strife's face. His sapphire eyes rolled back in his head.

Strife twisted his sword before yanking it from the man's body. He smiled viciously in delight as the blood flecked his teeth. He could taste it again, the taste of success and power.

Behind him Strife could hear one Solamnic knight exclaim.

The Eggheads were gone. They ran into the woods where the Solamnic on horseback could not chase after them. The knight had gotten off of his horse and stood there screaming curses into the woods. Like the Eggheads, he was just apprentice, unskilled, unlearned, without years of knowledge or a dash of common sense. He must have really thought that the elder knight had taken care of Strife.

Strife felt his bile boil. Those yellow back cowards! Running away like children, like gully dwarves! Even Strife, who did not have an ounce of respect for the knight's code, was sick to his stomach. Scruffy threatened to jump up his throat.

Then he saw a glimpse of bronze through the trees, Baz.

Baz came out of the woods, only a few feet away from the young knight. Baz had his sword sheathed at his side. His bronze palms, shades light that Strife's skin, were opened.

What the hell was the Egghead doing? Strife had an idea. The contents of his stomach rose.

"TRAITOR!" Strife screamed, charging towards the knight and Baz.

The knight was stunned, as was Baz. The sword ran through the young knight. He crumpled, exposing a frightened and terrified Bozak.

"I don't know what the hell you are doing or trying to do, but I'm sick of this crap," Strife snarled, pulling his blade from the young knight. "You're a pathetic excuse for a draconian, for a warrior, and I damn straight gonna take care of it! You and all the other Eggheads! The damn queen gives us the greatest treasure of all, and you and the rest of the pathetic excuses of magic screw off as if it's nothing!"

The younger Bozak took several steps back. He sprinted off to the side to the remnants of the sled.

Strife felt a blade slide between his ribs from behind. The tip of the blade protruded just below his breastbone. Strife couldn't even manage a scream. Rearing back, he was ableto get a glimpse of the sapphire eyed man he thought he killed earlier. So damn hard to kill, those damn Solamnics.

"That was my son you ran through!" the elderly knight hissed into the draconian's ear. "One good turn deserves another. Paladine forgive me for this strike."

The knight twisted his sword inside of Strife.

Strife felt his body melt and crumble starting from the center. The last blurry image Strife distinguished was the form of Baz huddled over a mass of blankets behind a shield. Then his eyes dried up. Scales and blood turned to dust, exposing bones, bones whiter than the snow, now dyed red. The knight's grasp on the hilt of his sword loosened and he collapsed on top of his son almost as if to protect him from what was to come.

An explosion reverberated though the forest.

&&&

"Abyss!" exclaimed Checkt as he raced upon the scene.

They heard the explosion, the explosion that could only happen with the death of a Bozak, and there were only two Bozaks that they knew of. The horse that once so proudly guarded the body of its dead owner raced pass. Poor Ahk was nearly crushed as a second horse, the one that belonged to the young knight, galloped in fear.

Baz was stretched out on top of a shield, slightly burnt and dusted in glossy black pieces, but alive. At the approach of the other Eggheads, he sat up and coughed up dust.

"Is the treasure okay?" Mahk asked, falling to his knees. Other draconians surveyed the scene of destruction. All the snow had melted and the bark of all the trees was scorched black. A small fog of grey ash and black powder drifted onto the ground.

Baz shook his head, regaining his hearing. From a small gash on his brow, he removed a shard of the stone Strife so lovingly protected. There was a glimmer of red. It only lasted for a moment before fading into nothingness. The shard cracked and turned to coal-like grit between his fingertips.

"Well, this one's gone," he said, wiping the dust away. He flipped over the shield, exposing a bundle of army blankets.

Underneath the shield, curled up in a blanket, was a young, blond haired girl, about six years of age. Her green eyes were widened in fear, she was crying uncontrollably. The sounds terrified her. Baz pushed away a few strands of thick, tear soaked hair. The young girl looked up at him, eyes suddenly filled with relief, from both the Eggheads and the girl.

Three days ago right after the attack by the makeshift army of farmers, Baz found the young girl curled up in a hollow oak afterhis terror-inducedsprint through the woods. Baz had never seen a child before, the only beings he had ever dealt with were adults, full armored adults who killed draconians; he did not even know that there were children! The only experience Baz had with children was his own childhood. For a moment he just watched the girl before finally sitting down in front of her. She was cowering in fear, a dagger much too large for her shaking in tiny, icy hands. She was cold and frightened. Baz took the dagger from her hands and brushed away a few curls of blond hair—hair that resembled the Golden General's locks, if his memory served him right. The girl stopped crying and looked at him, just as awed as he was. Baz picked the child up and carried her through the woods, searching for his missing troop. Around midnight he found the Eggheads, huddled around some form; the young woman. Baz hunkered down with his comrades, without Strife or Sorik spotting him.

The young woman was in pain. One of the Eggheads managed to bind the gash across her arm, but hidden underneath her clothing was a puncture to her stomach, and that was slowing killing her. Aun had ripped open her clothing; the interior layers were soaked with blood. Every one had attempted to staunch the wound at her stomach, but it was obvious, she was going to die.

"Alyssa," she whispered, half-insane from pain and blood loss. Her eyes were rolled up in the back of her head, facing up to heaven. "Alyssa—my little treasure. Mishakal, please take care of her. Let her brothers find her."

The young girl, who was huddled in the expanse of Baz's wing fast asleep in his warmth, woke. "Mommy?"

She pulled herself free. "Mommy?"

The Eggheads stared in disbelief as the little girl threw herself on the woman's breast. "Mommy?"

"Alyssa, my treasure," the woman said, placing a pale hand against the little girl's cheek. They were both blind to the audience that huddledaround them. "Mommy has to go away. Please, be a brave little girl for Mommy."

The hand fell limp and grew as cold as the snow falling around the Eggheads.

As Strife and Sorik slept, the Eggheads carried the woman's body to a ravine and buried her underneath a pile of rocks so that wolverines and wolfs would not ravage the body anymore. With the young girl, they hid her in the makeshift sled under the layers of bedding. During the day she would hide here, out of view from Strife. At night, the Eggheads would huddle around her, curtaining her with their wings so that she could play in the glow of the firelight. At bedtime one designated nanny would allow her to sleep against his chest or curled up in one wing.

Van had discovered a baby raccoon and was delighted in enlarging the family. Strife discovered the raccoon as Van tried to hide it in the sled, and he nearly discovered Alyssa. The Eggheads breathed a sigh of relief as Strife dragged away the squealing raccoon. Van wiped away tears and snorted. Had Strife dug through the contents of the sled any deeper he would have found Alyssa.

Once again, they nearly came close to losing her in the explosion.

"It's all right Alyssa," Baz said, picking up the young girl. He cupped her head, pressing her face against his chilly breastplate. The sobs ended. Alyssa gulped down her last remaining tears. "It's all over—for all of us."

"Over," someone whispered in realization. It was Ish. "What are we going to do now? The treasure's been destroyed, and our mission has failed. We'll lose the war."

"The war's lost," Baz said, standing up, still holding the girl. "It's been over. The Dark Queen lost. Don't you feel it?"

"Over, what makes you say that?" Ahk said from the ground. Mahk put a clawed foot down on his twin's rear and pulled the arrow out. Ahk cried out.

"You know that, I know that, Strife knew that," Baz said. "We failed one mission. One treasure is destroyed, but we have another mission, and another treasure to attend to."

With that, Baz hefted the Alyssa up. "Right Alyssa? Your brothers are gonna take good care of you."

The little girl nodded. The seven Baaz nodded in agreement and all grinned toothily. Alyssa smiled.

"So what exactly are we gonna do know?" Mahk asked, twirling the bloody arrow around. He pointed to a few shards of bone; the remnants of Strife. "We don't have a leader, or an idea what we are going to do or where we are going to go."

"Baz, you're the oldest," Aun piped up. "You're the leader. So what are we going to do?"

"I saw on one of Strife's maps a mountain range, not to far away. We could go there," said Baz. "We'll be safe. The Solamnics can't ride their horses up there; there will be plenty of lumber to build a house, plenty of game to hunt. We won't fight anymore, we won't kill anymore people, and we won't be killed anymore. We'll have a farmhouse, like the one Alyssa told us about."

"That's beautiful," Ahk said, wiping a tear from his muzzle. "So let's ditch the popsicle stand and go start a new life."

Relics and helmets were thrown into the air, into trees, down a ravine, all done with loud cheering, cheering even louder than the explosion.

Alyssa held tightly in his one arm, Baz threw his own helmet up into air. In the winter sun he watched it glint, blinding him. As Alyssa beside him smiled, he too toothily smiled.

They had just discovered the greatest treasure of all.

**EXPLANATIONS**

Strife and Sorik—are based on the more stereotypical draconians, the kind most often portrayed in the War of the Lance. They are hard veterans of war and much older than the Eggheads. As the first draconians created, a lot more effort was put into their training. You can basically say they were brainwashed. They have had no time to soul search (which, years later, in the Chaos Wars and War of the Souls, many draconians had time to develop personalities and a life). They have a job that needs done and they are doing it; they are all for the Queen's cause. Strife has a bit of personality. He's a pretty typical draconian, one of those ones you see in all those lovely short stories. He is all for power and aggression, and looks down on weakness, kills without mercy, even his own men. Sorik has no personality. He's the typical sub-commander; doesn't say much and obeys all orders. This was my first time working with such characters. Draconians did eat people (Doom Brigade).

The Eggheads are loosely based on the Baaz dragons who were worshipping the wicker dragon in Dragons of Autumn Twilight. In Draconian Measures, Commander Kang (I heart him) explains that his own troops made that dragon to fool the fresh from the egg Baaz and put them into submission. If those draconians would pray to a wicker dragon, then mine could run away at the slightest sound. In my mind, as the War of the Lance wore on, the trainers spent less and less time training and brainwashing the baby draconians. Naturally, they are good despite their corrupted creation (Draconian Measures, just read how the females behave). They are just like typical babies, except they grow up very fast (I think it takes about two years for them to hit adulthood). As a result of the lack of effort put into them, the Eggheads not only would not receive proper training, but they would also have time to soul search and discover themselves, which may give them a slight sense of self preservation and respect for other life forms.

Other info with the exception of Strife, Ahk, Mahk, and Ish, all the draconians in this short story have the names or a variation of the names of the sword swinging dragons in the Bazil Broketail series. Baz was not only the name of the lead dragon, but a paranoid hamster I owned. And yes, Ahk is a variation of my own character, Ahka Destroyer of Heroes. Originally Mahka (AKA Mahk) was his twin sister, so Mahka makes her debut, as a guy. Ish was an old RPG character of mine. She was redone and became a male. During the War of the Lance, there were no female draconians. Female draconians were not discovered until the Chaos Wars, so I could not use them in the story.

_I'm not planning on adding anymore to this story. I have two other projects I have to finish. You can safely assume that the Eggheads raised Alyssa and reached their mountain home (I'm a sucker for happy endings and fluff like this, and scalies). Please, feel free to use these characters if you want to do your own fanfiction, just email me and say you want to. I'm planning on doing a minotaur fanfiction later in the summer, if I could think of a good story line. Blame the start of this minotaur obsession on the short story Gone. Damn Red Horn, god he was so awesome. Why did he have to die? _


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